Hello.
I'm back after a good while, so the first thing I did was to check if it had been 'while' enough to break records. Unfortunately for you and me, it hasn't. Unfortunate because I had this fantastic, succinct and wonderfully witty first line that I just can't use now. A line that might forever be lost in time, space, and all those things that either end in an abyss or whirl endlessly in a vortex.
I've had some time for the past two years, during which I managed to convince myself that I am capable of attempting a book. I'm here this time around because N, the only fellow to have had the privilege and pain of reading one of the shorts I'd written, said something that got me back here. She's a celebrated illustrator and children's writer now, and a someone who I can confidently send things to with a "don't reply" or "I have nothing to say" without having her read, analyze or give me meaningful looks when we meet. Speaking of celebrated children's writers, GB, is right up there with a slew (and I mean slewwwww) of new books out this year, apart from being a general loudspeaker for gender awareness on several different platforms.
My message to N was clear, I didn't want any feedback. She obliged, neatly side-stepped my request, and said something along the lines of, "I liked that thing you'd written before.. about the garage and the man..." She didn't need to say anything more. I got here, read about the man and felt better for no reason at all, at least none I could explain without having to evolve into a mini-thesis.
So, what's the latest at my end, you ask - I now cook. You may be kind and remind me that I've been sharing my intense culinary knowledge with you since you've known me, at which point, I'll bow my head down, smile humbly and mumble, "I've since made a mean chicken tikka masala, an outstanding marble cake, chocolate chip muffins, butter chicken meatball spaghetti, and a bunch of stuff." My star dishes, however, are something we call a beggar sandwich and a 'four sauce' sauce. Your appreciation of those recipes, I feel, would be directly proportional to your enthusiasm for a good, steaming cup of Maggi Masala that has been allowed to cool to just the right temperature.
Well, that's about all I had to share today.
That, and this
True, it's dance, we know the moves
The bar, the dip, the woo
Love,
a non
(Just to continue keeping our relationship transparent-ish, we all know I don't have a line, right? I'd have dropped it right at the top and drawn the damn thing all over this post if I had.)
